


sub rosa

by ad_astraaa



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bottom Park Seonghwa, Choking, Cock Rings, Collars, Crying, Dom Jung Wooyoung, Dom/sub, Gags, Handcuffs, Idk it's really soft, Intimacy, M/M, Overstimulation, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slut Shaming, Sub Park Seonghwa, Subspace, Top Jung Wooyoung, Whipping, but not soft, but only mild?, no beta we die like men, very intimate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ad_astraaa/pseuds/ad_astraaa
Summary: Perhaps Wooyoung was a drug, one that Seonghwa had become hopelessly addicted to. Perhaps he craved that touch behind closed doors where no one could see. Perhaps he was starved for it. And Wooyoung knew all too well of the power manipulated between his fingers. To Seonghwa, Wooyoung was his puppetmaster, and he would gladly be played to the whims of the man if it meant that the cravings that ate away at his insides could be satiated.Wooyoung loved him, loved him with every fibre of his being, and imprinted that love onto Seonghwa. The bruises that stained his skin, the cries torn from his lips, were all Wooyoung's artistry. Seonghwa was his canvas, and oh, did Wooyoung paint. He painted him in the reds of passion, the reds of pain, the reds of blinding pleasure. Seonghwa was beautiful because Wooyoung made him beautiful. Wooyoung was his artist, his maestro, his master.And Seonghwa knew his place well.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 4
Kudos: 143





	sub rosa

There was always something, something thin and threadlike that glued Seonghwa to Wooyoung. A spider's gossamer, delicate and invisible that chained him by the neck to the young man. Perhaps it was the tangible intensity of Wooyoung's sharp eyes that seemed to pierce him through with each step he took; perhaps it was the way each touch from Wooyoung electrified his body, no matter how innocent. Innocence was Wooyoung's guise, but his hands spoke otherwise, heavy and frighteningly disciplined. 

Something thin and threadlike that Seonghwa could tear free from any moment he so wished. He didn't wish. Seonghwa was like fire, mesmerizing, graceful, and destructive. He was the spirit of war, the essence of something that could be admired, but never touched. And yet, if he was fire, Wooyoung was his fuel, rooting him to the ground and opening the sky for him to burn, burn bright, burn malevolent. Wooyoung fed him, nurtured him in a manner different from how he nurtured the younger ones. And without his fuel, he would flicker and die. 

Perhaps Wooyoung was a drug, one that Seonghwa had become hopelessly addicted to. Perhaps he craved that touch behind closed doors where no one could see. Perhaps he was starved for it. And Wooyoung knew all too well of the power manipulated between his fingers. To Seonghwa, Wooyoung was his puppetmaster, and he would gladly be played to the whims of the man if it meant that the cravings that ate away at his insides could be satiated. 

Wooyoung loved him, loved him with every fibre of his being, and imprinted that love onto Seonghwa. The bruises that stained his skin, the cries torn from his lips, were all Wooyoung's artistry. Seonghwa was his canvas, and oh, did Wooyoung paint. He painted him in the reds of passion, the reds of pain, the reds of blinding pleasure. Seonghwa was beautiful because Wooyoung made him beautiful. Wooyoung was his artist, his maestro, his master.

And Seonghwa knew his place well. 

Although the room was empty, Seonghwa's nerves were alight, thrumming beneath his skin, which glistened under an iridescent sheen of sweat. Beneath his knees, the gnarled carpeting bites at his skin, blooming indents of rouge, only the newest of flowers cultivated on sun-kissed skin. Around him, the stifling air encloses on his body. It was almost suffocating, the air flowing into his lungs as though it wanted to drown him. The leather straps and iron buckles that bound him stuck uncomfortably to his frame, almost burning under the heat of his own temperature. They leave biting welts crossed over his chest and around his toned waist. His wrists stretch, bound together behind his back by a pair of metallic handcuffs that chafed them enough to leave violent, red rings around them. 

The leather collar fastened around his neck is a fraction too tight, digging into his skin, rendering his breaths shallow and frequent, bordering on pants. Attached to the back of the collar is an iron chain, locked to the bedpost. The front sports a large, thin ring that falls just short of Seonghwa's glistening collarbone. Seonghwa couldn't escape if he wanted to, for it had been locked in place. His full lips, still bruised and swollen from Wooyoung's earlier attention, stretch like rose petals over a black ball gag, and saliva drips from his mouth, glistering over his bottom lip and trickling down his chin. Intermittent moans of muffled frustration leave his lips as he tugs at his restraints, desperate not to escape, but to receive attention where he most deeply desired it. 

All his senses were sharpened to hypersensitivity, save his sight, stolen by a silk blindfold looped twice around his head and knotted firmly at his occipital. Not the faintest sliver of light could reach his eyes. It could have been the blindfold just as much as it could have been the lights themselves shut off. Seonghwa neither knew nor cared, for the pulsating ache under his skin cried out for him to gratify himself in some way—any way. But he would not. He could not. It would never be as satisfying as Wooyoung's meticulous touch. And he was not so disobedient that he would seek after his own pleasure without considering his master. 

A muted, wordless cry passes Seonghwa's stretched lips, perhaps Wooyoung's name, in a feverish plea for regard, for even the meagre satisfaction of Wooyoung's critical eyes on him. Even that shred of attention was enough for Seonghwa, who had been conditioned to yearn for Wooyoung's presence itself as though it was water and he was a parched man in the desert. And he knew, in the corner of his deprivation-hazed mind, that Wooyoung would give it to him. He always did. Yet it could not stop the desperation of his natural instincts. He was alone, alone and tormented by the stifling air that taunted him, reminding him that Wooyoung was not there. 

Seonghwa jerks, tensing as the creaking of the doorknob being turned pierces his ears in a metallic shriek, a painful disturbance in the tortuous silence. He shudders, the sound itself sending shockwaves through his already sensitive body from his crown, down his spine, and to the tips of his toes. A cracked moan crawls pitifully from his throat as the pleasurable ache heightens, blurring his senses. Naturally, he turns to blindly search for the source of the noise, his shins scraping the coarse carpeting as he shifts across the room and away from the bed. The clatter of chains accompanies his movement, and soon the flicking of a switch. 

Dim light percolates through the blindfold and Seonghwa groans past the saliva-slicked gag that forced his jaws apart. He's eventually choked by the collar, chain stretched taut as he locates the source of that burning sensation, the sensation of being scrutinized in all his vulnerability. He tilts his head back as though to peer up at the man he could neither see nor hear, but was there, was there beyond a shadow of a doubt. 

The sound of the door shutting prompts another shudder down his spine and he whimpers as the barest of touches caresses his skin. His eyes widen beneath the blindfold as two of Wooyoung's fingers hook under the ring of his collar and pull him upright, off the carpet, and to his feet. Already balancing on the periphery of blinding, white gratification, a small tear escapes Seonghwa's eye, soaked up immediately by his blindfold. Although he tries to draw closer to the man who stood just out of touch's way, he could not for that damned chain that bound him to the bedpost. A desperate whine escapes his lips as a trickle of saliva drips down the corner of his mouth. 

And then Wooyoung chuckles and reaches to swipe it away with his thumb, and Seonghwa's knees nearly buckle from that alone. He leans in towards the source of the touch, towards Wooyoung's warm hand against his own skin. 

And then a strangled noise escapes his throat as he's suddenly and violently choked by his collar. Wooyoung's hand had slipped from his chin to the chain behind him, pulling him both back and upwards, forcing his trembling legs to still lest the collar strangle him. Wooyoung clicks his tongue, and the sound resonates like thunder in Seonghwa's ears. He's overcome with the sudden and overwhelming yearning to see Wooyoung's face, to be rid of this blindfold so he could look at his master's eyes that he could always feel, even when he could not see. That alone, while enough to just push him over the edge, was not what he wanted. Perhaps he had become greedy.

He's not granted any of his silent wishes, but dragged back to the bedside by the chain and released. Immediately he crumbles onto his knees and groans, arms shifting behind his back as he searches for Wooyoung again. The creaking of the mattress alerts his senses, and he crawls to the foot of the bed, not daring to stand lest his legs refuse to uphold him. He rests his head against the warmth of Wooyoung's muscular thigh, clad in what felt like leather pants. Seonghwa closes his eyes and relaxes there as though it were the only place for him. Perhaps it was. 

He feels Wooyoung's fingers combing through his hair as though the man was caressing the strings of a guitar. Wooyoung was gentle, but Seonghwa knew better than to ignore the heaviness of his touch. One wrong movement, and he'd feel the brunt of his malconduct. So he stills against Wooyoung, doesn't dare move a fraction, tests the man's pulse against his cheek until he could almost feel his own beating rhythmically alongside it. 

These quiet, anticipative moments were the moments when he and Wooyoung became one mind, joining themselves together much more intimately than their bodies ever could. It was these moments wherein Seonghwa willingly surrendered his stubbornness and unnecessary thought processes. It was here that he had no use for such things. Here and now were where he was Wooyoung's, where he belonged to Wooyoung, where he was Wooyoung's obedient plaything. He relaxes as Wooyoung just cards his hand through his hair in calming, repetitive gestures. 

"Seonghwa," Wooyoung calls, his voice husky and somewhat distant, as though his head was turned away. Seonghwa lifts his head, turning it in the direction of the voice, waiting quietly. There's a smile in Wooyoung's voice, a lilt to his tone. "Were you being good while I was gone?" Of course Seonghwa couldn't respond more than a trembling nod.

He feels a callused finger brushing his rouge lips and if he could have smiled, he would have. He nudges Wooyoung's hand dutifully with his head and sits back on his kneeling legs. Wooyoung's fingers trace his lips, then his chin, down his chiseled jaw and his slender neck. And Seonghwa's head falls back compliantly, a soft groan vibrating in his chest as Wooyoung's touch sharpens the permeating ache that throbbed over his skin. He hears the mattress creak once again and follows the sound of Wooyoung's footsteps with his head. 

The air is once again noticeably stifling, and Wooyoung's footsteps are muffled, but Seonghwa's sharp ears catch wind of every movement, piecing together in his mind the image of Wooyoung striding to the oak dresser where he contained all his favourite instruments. Wood slides over wood with a whispered creak and the sound of rustling that creeps its way down Seonghwa's back. 

He kneels upright as Wooyoung's footsteps draw closer and tenses when he feels something cold against his burning hot skin, something that quickly heats up and coheres to his neck, where Wooyoung tilts his head up with the flat end of a stiff, leather riding crop. Seonghwa shivers, forced to keep his head tilted almost uncomfortably, was his mind not currently focussed on how he wanted something— _anything_ —to be done to him. He swallows back his saliva and waits as Wooyoung turns his head this way and that, almost in appraisal. And Seonghwa, although blindfolded, felt stripped down to his bones, his innermost parts exposed to Wooyoung's scrutiny. 

Seonghwa gasps, groans as a sharp, stinging pain resonates through his body from the crook of his neck where Wooyoung had brought the crop down in a firm, restrained blow. And _oh_ , it felt so _good_. Seonghwa forces his back to remain straight despite the urge to grovel for more. The warmth from the strike oozes into his muscle and a soft, unintentional whine escapes his lips. 

"What's this? Are you complaining? Dissatisfied?" Wooyoung accuses sharply, and Seonghwa shakes his head almost immediately. He couldn't possibly be dissatisfied with Wooyoung—that wasn't his place. 

A muffled moan tears out of his throat as Wooyoung whips the delicate skin stretched over his rapidly bruising collarbones. He jerks at his handcuffs as the stinging becomes a consistent, burning pain. He doubles over as Wooyoung burns a harsh, red line over his abdomen, and gasps when he feels a boot-clad foot resting between his shoulder blades. A cry escapes him as Wooyoung steps down whilst pulling at the chain attached to his collar, forcefully arching his frame to the point where Seonghwa felt on the verge of breaking, his mind blank with a lewd melange of pain and incredible pleasure. His nerves may as well have been on fire, and he can't hold back the detestable mumbles and groans from escaping past the gag. 

"You're beautiful as always," Wooyoung murmurs, and a whine that bordered on a sob lodges in Seonghwa's throat as he feels Wooyoung's warm breath against his ear. The man's foot digs painfully against his spine as his neck is pulled back by the chain, and Seonghwa lay on the cusp of forgetting everything that existed; everything, save this man that was playing with him like some kind of toy. Nothing else mattered. This pain, it was Wooyoung. This burning pleasure rolling in his gut was also Wooyoung. His five senses were all Wooyoung. And Seonghwa couldn't feel more fulfilled. 

The pressure of Wooyoung's foot leaves his back, doubtless leaving a violent, red print over his skin and swelling welts from where his chafing harness rubbed over his back. Wooyoung forces Seonghwa upright once more via chain and smiles. "My pretty Seonghwa hyung, all mine," Wooyoung croons, his voice deceptively gentle, and Seonghwa shudders. His head lolls slightly, and when it comes to Wooyoung's attention, the man drops the chain. Seonghwa crumples to the floor. With a click of his tongue, Wooyoung raises him up by the chin with the crop, and Seonghwa blindly follows his every guiding movement like a snake charmed by a flute.

And pain flares through Seonghwa's system again as Wooyoung strikes him, his upper neck this time, dangerously close to his face. The sensitive hollow between Seonghwa's neck and jaw blushes violently under the hit, and blood pulses through Seonghwa's frame. It rushes in his ears, fills his brain, fills his mind, and fills the nether regions of his body as well. Wooyoung seemed to enjoy the sight of him, for the strikes come more frequent, harder, more calculated, and Seonghwa is positively dripping all over himself, all over the carpet in a humiliating display. Not that he cared—how could he care about something as meaningless as his own dignity when Wooyoung's sweet, scathing laughter rings in his ears?

He could not. 

When Wooyoung's crop trails down his body, shining with sweat, Seonghwa instinctively shifts to press himself against it with a promiscuous hunger piercing his mind. And Wooyoung laughs, laughs beautifully. "You're insatiable, my pretty," Wooyoung hums, his voice ringing far above Seonghwa's head. He doesn't have much time to register much else as Wooyoung whips him in the sensitive, soft flesh above his v-line and he does sob this time, a tear escaping his eyes and drowning in the silk of his blindfold. It stung, it _hurt_ , but it hurt so good. Seonghwa lifts his head to face where he could only assume Wooyoung was, muffled sounds leaving his gagged mouth. 

"What was that? You're getting greedy aren't you?" Wooyoung scolds, beating harsh, near purplish marks onto his sensitive skin, and Seonghwa feels his body suddenly lose its weight as a spearlike pleasure lances through his mind. He cries out, near choking on his own saliva as the shock of sudden release crashes over his frame, leaving him weak and trembling. He slumps down on the soiled carpet and it's only after his mind recovers from the pleasure haze that a cold weight falls on him. He'd made a mistake. 

And surely Wooyoung wouldn't let him get away so leniently. 

"Seonghwa."

Seonghwa immediately scrambles upright on shaking legs at the sound of his name, head bowed with shame, body flushed and throbbing, and the source of his release pitifully flaccid. He gasps as a sharp pain sears across his thigh.

"Did I give you permission?" When Seonghwa hesitates, he's given another strike to the opposite thigh. "Answer me. Are you becoming rebellious?" 

The crop falls onto the dirtied carpet as Wooyoung reaches forward and grabs Seonghwa's chin with a hand, gripping him tight enough for his fingernails to dig into the skin lining his jaw and Seonghwa whimpers, spit dribbling down the corner of his mouth and trickling onto his neck. 

"Answer me!" Wooyoung demands again, his voice dropping nearly an octave. Seonghwa shudders, the beginnings of a new flame coiling about in his stomach.

This time Seonghwa shakes his head, no, and Wooyoung releases him. A small fragment of Seonghwa wished that he hadn't, but he obliterates that thought as quickly as it had come. He was here to obey, not to question. Another slash across his thighs makes his legs buckle, but before he can fall, Wooyoung grabs him by the ring of his collar and hefts him up with a formidable strength. Seonghwa finds himself pushed over the edge of the bed, back open and vulnerable, and pelvis trapped between the mattress and Wooyoung's thigh.

"That's right. I didn't give you permission," Wooyoung growls, and Seonghwa garble senseless noises as Wooyoung's bare hand meets his skin. His eyes widen beneath the blindfold and he barely has time to recover before Wooyoung strikes him again, doubtless leaving behind a vicious handprint on his skin. Seonghwa sobs as the sensitivity radiates over his lower body, trapped against the soft sheets by a domineering hand. He gasps as a sharp crack resounds behind him and a painful sting radiates over his back; Wooyoung had whipped him with the crop, right against the bumps of his spine. Already he could feel the shameful coils of arousal spinning together inside of him once again. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by Wooyoung. Of course it doesn't. His master had a keen eye and a keener hand. And when Wooyoung notices, he slips a hand under Seonghwa, hefting him upright by his slim waist and running his nails over Seonghwa's v-line. "Such a pretty, hyung. It's really a shame you don't have the attitude to match." Wooyoung's free hand curls around Seonghwa's throat, and Seonghwa swallows thickly as Wooyoung pulls his head back. Now Seonghwa's body is pulled flush to Wooyoung, and the feeling of the man's built frame pressing against Seonghwa through the skin-tight pants and loose, thin button down was a painful reminder of how close he was to Wooyoung, but how he couldn't feel him skin to skin. A whine escapes his throat. 

The softness of Wooyoung's full lips settle on the crook of his neck from behind as Wooyoung's fingers drift lower and encircle his erection, and Seonghwa nearly goes weak in the knees again. It was only Wooyoung's unrelenting hand at his neck that kept him upright. Wooyoung's teeth scrape at the chafed skin just below his collar and he shivers, his head falling to the side, exposing any skin for the younger man to reach. His skin, laced with ruby-coloured abrasions, stung against the humid air, but Seonghwa loved it, loved having his body owned and used by Wooyoung. 

And Wooyoung knew it too. Theirs was an unusual game of give and take. Seonghwa would give his body to Wooyoung and take from it the incredible, euphoric knowledge of knowing that only he could be like this for Wooyoung. Even if Wooyoung tried to go after anyone else, only Seonghwa could do this for him. Only Seonghwa could please him. Only Seonghwa could satisfy him. And he knew that only Wooyoung could give him what he wanted as well, give him what he needed, what he _craved_ in the form of their relationship behind closed doors. 

When Wooyoung sinks his teeth into Seonghwa's sensitive skin, Seonghwa groans, foaming at the lip and tugging weakly at the handcuffs. Wooyoung smiles against his purplish skin and moves his hand away from Seonghwa's aching length to smear the transparent evidence of his arousal over his sculpted abdomen in its ascent up his body. "I'll have to fix your behaviour, hyung. You'll be good for me, won't you?"

Yes, yes he would. Seonghwa raises his head and mumbles something against his gag, wishing that it would be removed so he could kiss Wooyoung. He wanted more, he wanted closer proximity, but he couldn't ask for it. And Wooyoung had chosen to deprive him of it. 

As though by some silent understanding, Wooyoung's hand shifts off his neck to the back of his head and deftly unbuckles the gag, tugging the ball out of Seonghwa's mouth and letting it fall to the carpeted floor as he instead replaces it with his fingers, thrusting them up against the back of Seonghwa's throat and making him gag. Seonghwa coughs, saliva dripping down Wooyoung's fingers and slicking over his harnessed chest. Behind him, the rumble of a laugh resonates against his chest from Wooyoung. "Stupid, pretty hyung. Haven't you gotten rid of that annoying reflex of yours? Do you need your throat trained too?"

When Wooyoung trails his fingers out of Seonghwa's mouth, hooking at his bottom lip and pulling his mouth open, Seonghwa moans. "Yes—train me," he pleads, his voice raspy and hoarse. "I need it—"

Wooyoung's hand curls around his throat once more, tightening his airways. A whimper escapes him as he feels Wooyoung's teeth scraping his pierced earlobe, hot breath toying at his sweat-slicked skin. "I should punish your insolence." Wooyoung bites down and Seonghwa cries out in pain as a trickle of something warm drips from his ear, and the scent of something metallic crawls up his nostrils. "Beg for it properly." A rush of pain spreads through Seonghwa's body as Wooyoung slaps the area of his thigh that had been whipped earlier, rekindling the throbbing sting. 

"Please, please," he begs. "Please train me, master," he gasps when cold air hits the wound on his ear, but his groan is muffled by Wooyoung's fingers in his mouth again, and this time he sucks at them, lathering them with saliva, eager to display to Wooyoung that he was a good pupil. He feels the weight of his chain disappear as Wooyoung unhooks it from his collar with his free hand and a thrill runs down his spine. It falls with a muted clatter. 

A hand against the small of his back drifts lower and then spanks him sharply, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble onto the mattress. Behind him Wooyoung chuckles. "On your knees, pretty hyung." Seonghwa immediately falls. He feels Wooyoung's warmth radiating close to him, and naturally seeks after it, his nose bumping the leather of Wooyoung's skin-tight pants. He replaces that with his mouth, searching avidly over Wooyoung's frame, breathing in the musky, faintly cinnamon scent that wafted from Wooyoung.

"Oh, you're eager aren't you?" Wooyoung taunts, and Seonghwa just nods, refusing to lift his mouth for even a moment. When his tongue finds the zipper of Wooyoung's pants, he catches it between his teeth and pulls it down. His hands were still bound, after all. He trails his lips over Wooyoung's pelvis until he locates the hardness he had been searching for. He rests it on his tongue, and when he feels Wooyoung tense, he immediately pushes it as deep as he could without feeling the urge to gag. He could feel Wooyoung's pulse in his mouth, doubtless painful, and he wilfully pushes himself further. He would never limit himself when it came to Wooyoung, his beloved master.

After some difficulty and spit dribbling down his used mouth, Seonghwa manages to take all of Wooyoung down his throat, swallowing on it, moving deftly. By now Wooyoung's hands are buried in Seonghwa's hair and his breaths come short and shallow. A flood of satisfaction fills Seonghwa's chest. However, all too soon, Wooyoung pulls his head away, and when he leans forward, he's lifted by the hair, a thin string of saliva still connecting him to Wooyoung. He licks his swollen lips and tilts his head up slightly. "Master, please let me—"

"Let you?" Wooyoung interjects sharply before he can finish his sentence. "You've been rebellious and insolent, and now you have the nerve to think you can ask for something?" Seonghwa winces, his lips parting with an excited gasp as Wooyoung holds his head straight by the hair. "I've been so lenient with you and this is how you repay me? Stupid, pretty hyung." Wooyoung clicks his tongue and Seonghwa bites back a groan as he's thrown back against the mattress by his hair. 

"I'm sor—"

"Shut up," Wooyoung interrupts. Seonghwa gasps and spasms as Wooyoung spanks the tender skin of his inner thigh. Wooyoung grabs him by the ring of his collar and hefts him up before deftly snapping off his handcuffs. "Lie down, and don't move."

And Seonghwa obeys, resting his head against the soft pillows and stretching his body over the mattress. He was treated so well, disciplined so well by Wooyoung. When his arms are stretched above his head and cuffed to the bed frame, goosebumps of anticipation prickle on his skin. He can't help but smile as Wooyoung shackles his ankles to the bedposts, keeping him exposed and spread-eagled on the mattress. Rustling enters his ears once more, and this time when Wooyoung's warmth radiates at his side, he braces himself. 

Rightfully so, as Wooyoung raises the leather flail above his head and whips the sensitive flesh of Seonghwa's stomach, eliciting a cry from his lips as the tails of the whip cut into his skin. He writhes in his restraints as Wooyoung brushes the leather tails over the flushing skin. "Put that pretty mouth of yours to good use and count," Wooyoung murmurs. "And maybe I'll go easy on you." There's a sadistic smile dripping off his deathly calm words, and Seonghwa shudders. "That one was for practice. We start now."

And Seonghwa doesn't have time to brace himself as Wooyoung whips his stomach once more. Tears spring into his eyes and escape the corner of his blindfold, trickling down his cheekbone. "One," he gasps, his abdominals flexing under the braided tongues. Wooyoung graciously allows him to recover for a few seconds before whipping him once more, this time on his chafed obliques, already sore from the rubbing of the harness. Seonghwa's jaw tightens. "T-two...ah—"

The whip is lifted from his burning body and Seonghwa's lips part when the tails brush over his jaw. "Did I give you permission to make any other noises?" He asks, his tone harsh. "Park Seonghwa, you're trying my patience." Wooyoung retracts the whip and instead slaps Seonghwa across the cheek, snapping his head to the side and leaving a harsh, red mark on his face. Seonghwa whimpers, heat spreading through his head. 

"I'm sorry, master," he whispers, only to stiffen, startled as Wooyoung brings down the flail on his pectoral. He bites back the cry of pain that threatens to escape his lips lest it should anger Wooyoung. 

"Know your place," Wooyoung hisses. "Begin again from one." And he strikes Seonghwa's sensitive inner thigh, dangerously close to his once again painfully hard erection. 

Seonghwa bites his lip and gathers himself before breathing out an airy "O-one…" The braided tails tease his skin once more before lashing into his collar. Seonghwa flinches. "Two," he gasps, just as the whip lands on his bruised hip. "Three…" the number drags itself from his lips in a longer moan as the stinging pain faded off to an intoxicating kind of pleasure that clouded his mind and relaxed his body. As he counts off Wooyoung's strikes, the cloud builds until a euphoric smile spreads over his lips. "...Ten."

Wooyoung lowers the whip and rubs his heavily bruised abdomen with a firm hand. "Good hyung," he hums, his hand drifting close to Seonghwa's dripping need, but never touching it. "You did well." And Seonghwa finally lets out the cracked moan that had threatened to escape his throat, the praise stimulating his mind almost as much as the touches. He could almost feel the smirk on Wooyoung's lips. 

In the haze of pleasure wafting around his mind, he barely noticed the ring that Wooyoung clips onto him until the man begins to tease his erection with a hand, wiping the remains of his earlier release over his length. The burning pressure of the ring finally dawns in Seonghwa's mind and he whimpers, bucking up against Wooyoung's hand in futile attempts to chase after a gratification that would not come, so as long as that damnable ring was on him. Not that it affected Wooyoung. 

"You've become spoiled," Wooyoung scolds almost conversationally as he moves his hand with a delicate precision. "I've been giving you too much. So now I won't give you what you want until I'm satisfied with you." 

"Master, please," he begs aimlessly as Wooyoung's skilled hand taunts him, gives him the absolute best, as it always did, but deprived him from hitting the point of no return. 

Wooyoung's hand slows to a stop. "Please what, hyung? Use your words, you can talk."

"Please use me," Seonghwa pleads, his voice catching in his throat as Wooyoung's hand moves even lower, his fingers teasing at a more sensitive part of him. "Please, I want to be useful to you...master," he gasps. 

Wooyoung chuckles, and the sound causes a spark of electricity to ripple down Seonghwa's spine. "It's no fun if I use you all up so soon, my stupid, pretty hyung," he chirps, his finger circling at Seonghwa's flexing rim. "I want you to entertain me properly. I can't have you run out of energy so soon." And Seonghwa whines, whines like a pathetic dog as Wooyoung's finger just dips inside him, teasing him but never fulfilling him. 

The mattress creaks and dips as Wooyoung’s weight settles down on it and Seonghwa shivers as Wooyoung’s callused fingers run over his skin and pull his pectorals, already blemished by the ruthless lashing from before. Disciplined Wooyoung may be, but he never spared Seonghwa the brunt of his strength. A groan, caught somewhere between pulsating pain and hazy pleasure. He gasps when Wooyoung’s clothed knee grinds down on him just a little too hard, and tears spring into his eyes. “Master…!” 

“So filthy,” Wooyoung whispers, his teeth barely teasing at the purplish skin of Seonghwa’s collarbone from above. “My pretty hyung is such a whore for pain, isn’t he?” Another cry leaves Seonghwa’s lips as Wooyoung purposefully digs his knee into the sensitive flesh, sending a sharp lance of excruciating pain. His head falls back against the pillow and he gasps for breath, arms pulling at the handcuffs and legs writhing beneath Wooyoung. A high-pitched wail elicits from his lips as Wooyoung’s teeth sink into his skin once more, breaching the pale barrier and coaxing blood to the surface. 

“Look at you,” Wooyoung mutters, drawing back and gripping Seonghwa’s chin with a relentless hand. “You’re dripping everywhere. Making a mess of everything even when you’re tied up all prettily.You really can’t stop making mistakes today, hm?” He taps at the blindfold over Seonghwa’s eyes. “All riled up thinking about me while I was gone, and now you couldn’t even hold yourself back?” Wooyoung’s knee grinds ruthlessly down on Seonghwa’s erection, prompting a muted cry from his throat. “You probably want me to take it off, but we both know you won’t be able to handle it if I do. I know what’s best for you, hyung.” 

“You know what’s best for me,” Seonghwa gasps, his leg naturally shifting closed as far as it could with the restraint on his ankle. Wooyoung slaps his reddened inner thigh, and he chokes out a moan, opening his leg once again. He licks his bruised lips and opens his eyes, wishing that he could see Wooyoung’s face, wishing he could witness just how he was riling up the younger. 

A satisfied chuckle worms its way into his ears as the weight on the bed shifts and Wooyoung reaches to grab something or another. “That’s right, my stupid, pretty hyung,” Wooyoung croons. “And good little whores like you should lie there and take what’s best for you, right?”

Seonghwa whimpers as the weight of Wooyoung’s knee is removed when he leaves the bed. "Good little whores like me should lie here and take what's best for me," he echoes breathily. And as Wooyoung strides around the room, Seonghwa just lies helplessly on the bed, a thrum of restless energy pulsing through his skin, frustrating his senses and eliciting a wordless whine from his lips. 

He gasps as something cold touches his erection and is immediately bound by a strap of what felt similar to his silk blindfold. It takes him a few moments to recalibrate himself but as soon as he gathers his thoughts, his mind is wiped blank once again as Wooyoung’s fingers flip the switch and a brutal vibration rocks over his skin in consistent shockwaves that pull a cry out of his throat as the feeling in his gut streamlines south and screams at his brain for release. He writhes on the mattress more than he had when Wooyoung had beaten him from the intense, uninterrupted waves of unadulterated pleasure that speared through his brain. Graceless noises spill from his lips. “Master! Master…! Please, please, oh, f—” his lip catches between his teeth and he bites down to muffle his nonsensical babbling. 

Wooyoung laughs at his torment, and when Seonghwa feels something cold probe at a more intimate area of him, his eyes fly open, staring blank at the muted light that filtered through the black blindfold. “N-no—you can’t, not n—ah!” Seonghwa sobs as Wooyoung’s fingers, dripping with lube breach him, filling him with a painfully cold sensation. First one, then two, thrusted pitilessly inside of him, careless for any kind of pleasure since he had already been so stimulated that any touch at all would be pleasurable. Seonghwa’s entire body pulsates with a single ache, his nerves crying for relief. And tears stream down Seonghwa’s cheeks as Wooyoung’s fingers probe into the gathering of nerves inside of him that made his dark vision shine bright white. 

If Seonghwa had the capacity to think intellectual thoughts, he would understand in that moment that Wooyoung understood him, understood his body better than anyone else. Only Wooyoung's hands could make his body ache, burn, become weak with a pleasure that stole his ability to perceive anything except Wooyoung, Wooyoung, _Wooyoung_. And the name leaves his lips a sobbed out half-scream as Wooyoung unclips the oppressive ring from him and he climaxes almost immediately, limbs jerking against his restraints and body spasming. His muscles flex under Wooyoung's heavy hand and his back arches like a bow pulled taut.

And Wooyoung doesn't stop. He abuses Seonghwa, abuses the nerves that send stars into his vision, prompts cries, wails of his name from Seonghwa’s lips. In any other context, Seonghwa would’ve been punished for calling Wooyoung by name, but in that moment the ecstasy that crashed over his skin in waves stole any unnecessary thoughts from his mind. Seonghwa’s body is caught in vibrations, in sharp beams of white-hot pleasure, in Wooyoung’s cinnamon scent. He’s dizzy with overstimulation and the sensations balance on the threshold between pleasure and pain. 

“P-please! I can’t—too much…!” he barely gasps out, his chest heaving as Wooyoung switches the vibrator to a higher setting, stimulating his mind to the point where his blank mind was beginning to settle into a hazy kind of darkness. He feels Wooyoung’s fingers pull from him and sobs as they’re promptly shoved past his lips. 

“Shut up,” Wooyoung snarls. “Did I give you permission to speak? You will stay here and take everything you’re given.” And Seonghwa moans against the slick fingers in his mouth, his blindfold plastered to his face by stale tears. Seonghwa’s head falls back, a hoarse scream mumbled by Wooyoung’s fingers as the flail lashes his hypersensitive skin, blooming fresh lines on amethyst bruises. He releases again, strings of translucent white spilling over himself, the bed, Wooyoung, and sobs as the man refuses to let him fall from the high, keeps his nerves alight and his heart palpitating within his chest. 

He gasps, choking on Wooyoung’s fingers as the man swiftly enters him without any kind of prior warning, already prepped and ridiculously hard, and no, he really can’t take any more. His mind is on the verge of giving up under the throes of the sweet torment. And yet, his body burns with a satisfying heat as he stretches to accommodate Wooyoung, his chest floods with a fulfilled warmth, a relieved sob tears itself out of his throat. 

And suddenly light floods his vision, cool air hits his face as Wooyoung grabs the black blindfold secured around his eyes and rips it off his head, tossing it aside. Past the tears that scald Seonghwa’s cheeks he sees the man’s face, his beautiful face with all its strong edges, his pleasure-glazed eyes and jaw clenched as he moves brutally, making no compromise for Seonghwa’s overstimulated state. Seonghwa cries out, tears blooming in his eyes once again as Wooyoung finds that exact spot that threatens to drive him unconscious, sparking bright lights in his head and making his already weakened body spasm. Wooyoung’s snake print shirt is plastered to his body by sweat and although he’s still practically fully clothed, Seonghwa wants to touch him, wants to hold this man.

“M-master—ah! Wooyoung!” Seonghwa gasps, his arms jerking once more at his handcuffs. As though by silent understanding, Wooyoung pauses midway, granting Seonghwa a small, brief moment to catch heaving breaths as his wrists are finally freed from their restraints. His eyes widen in a semblance of surprise as Wooyoung tears off the binding that held the vibrator to him, and then unshackles his ankles, all with skilled, impatient movements. 

The sudden freedom shocked Seonghwa and he’s quick to discover himself trembling from exertion as Wooyoung grabs his leg by the underside of his knee and hefts it above his shoulder. Seonghwa closes his eyes and braces his body, shaking like an autumn leaf as Wooyoung once again resumes his brutal movement. And this time Seonghwa screams, loud and vocal, as his nerves are torn to pieces by Wooyoung’s ministrations. He weakly grapples at Wooyoung’s shoulder blades, clawing at the fabric and somehow succeeding in tearing off the top few buttons, pulling the thin fabric down Wooyoung’s shoulders. 

And Wooyoung’s free hand grabs him by the collar, strangling him as the man hefts his head up, pulling him close and stealing his lips, devouring him whole from the tips of his hairs down to his toes. Seonghwa can’t find the strength in him to hold on any longer and falls back weakly like a rag doll as Wooyoung uses and abuses him to his heart’s content. He must’ve reached a pitiful, dry release at least once before Wooyoung finally hits his own climax inside of Seonghwa, but by now he’s barely conscious, his muscles twitching and broken moans spilling from his lips like water. 

As Wooyoung lowers his leg, the man kisses his bruised thigh tenderly, and even though Seonghwa was on the verge of not noticing at all, his ruby lips curve into a slight smile. Wooyoung does everything after that, cleaning him up and tending to his bruises and the few areas where blood had been drawn, all with a gentle hand and a warm aura. Seonghwa’s eyes flutter open slightly and he feels a cool, wet cloth against his bruised cheek. His dazed eyes meet Wooyoung’s, and the man smiles down at him. “You did so well, hyung, my pretty hyung,” Wooyoung murmurs, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I’m so proud of you. So good for me.” He shifts to peck Seonghwa's swollen lips before straightening up once more to tend to his aching body.

Seonghwa closes his eyes once again, gathers his thoughts, and acquaints himself with the throbbing pain from Wooyoung’s treatment. He bites the inside of his cheek and slowly accustoms himself to it before drawing in a slow breath and opening his eyes once again. “Jung Wooyoung, you’re doing the dishes for the next two weeks,” he declares bluntly. “I don’t think I can stand after that.” 

And Wooyoung just rolls his eyes before poking his tongue childishly at Seonghwa. “Fine. But we both know if I don’t you will. Also you ruined my shirt, so I’m expecting a new one.”

And Seonghwa huffs softly, his eyes sliding shut as he allows the pervading unconscious to take his reins. His next words are soft and affectionate as he drifts off to sleep under the gentle massages of Wooyoung’s hands. 

“You brat.”

**Author's Note:**

> ahahahhaha im literally just here to push the dom!woo sub!hwa agenda bye


End file.
